Family for Observation
by Strawberry Shortcake123
Summary: Tony, Ziva, and their daughter. Tiva family drabble series. Sequel to Bloom.
1. Paternal

Tony stood in the center of the living room with his hands in his pockets, mesmerized by the sight in front of him. On the couch sat Ziva and in her arms was Azalea, the baby sucking desperately from her bottle as her mother held it and murmured soothing, unintelligible words.

It just didn't make sense to him. Azalea was three days old and had been home from the hospital for all of five hours, and yet Ziva knew exactly what to do with her. The new mother was always able to get her to stop crying, and her arms always curled around Azalea so naturally, as if she'd been doing this for years. She talked to the baby as if there was an actual conversation taking place. And for the life of him, he couldn't figure out _how_. They had _both_ gone to the classes and read the books. The pregnancy had not been one-sided; Tony had participated in everything but the morning sickness.

Maybe it was just maternal instinct.

But wasn't there supposed to be a _paternal_ instinct, too?

Azalea detached her mouth from the bottle; Ziva set it aside and transferred the baby to her shoulder, patting her back lightly. She smiled at Tony. "She was hungry."

"I saw," he said as Azalea burped.

Ziva gestured at the empty spot beside her on the couch. "Why don't you come hold her?"

"Nah. She cries every time I do that," he said, trying to keep his tone light.

Some trace of bitterness must have entered his voice, though, because Ziva stood up and held Azalea out to him. He opened his mouth to protest, but the look she gave him made it clear that this was not a discussion. Carefully, he slipped an arm under her neck and held her legs with the other, drawing her near to his chest.

Once he was certain that he was holding her correctly, he looked up and saw that Ziva was on her way out of the room. "Wait, where are you going?"

She laughed a little at his panic. "Just to the bathroom, Tony. I will be right back."

Left alone, Tony gazed into his daughter's face. Her eyelids were drooping; her meal had made her sleepy. One little fist peeked out from under the top of the blanket she was swaddled in. She was beautiful and fragile and perfect.

"I love you so much," he whispered, his voice hoarse, pressing a kiss to her tiny button nose. "I want to be a good daddy."

Azalea opened her eyes fully. Her big brown orbs were twinkling as she extended her hand, looking for something to grab onto; he offered his finger.

She curled her tiny hand around it, held fast to it, watched it in wonder.

What she didn't do was cry, and when he realized that, he broke into a wide grin. "Hey, you don't think I'm so bad, do you?" With new confidence, he began to rock her back and forth, and he could have sworn the corners of her eyes crinkled.

Maybe he could get the hang of this parenting thing, after all.

**If you're new to this series, hi! And if not, welcome back! I'll be posting a drabble every day until the whole series is up. : )**


	2. Partners

The room felt like the most peaceful place on earth, and as far as Tony and Ziva were concerned, it was.

They each stood at a different side of the crib, looking down at their newborn baby, taking in her tiny fingers and curly tufts of hair and pink mouth. Really, they should have been taking advantage of her finally being asleep and gone to bed themselves, but they were too busy being mesmerized.

Tony broke the silence, though his voice stayed low. "Can you believe that?"

"Believe what?" Ziva murmured back.

"That we… we _made_ her."

Ziva smiled, raising her head so she could meet his eyes. Their hands, resting on the head of the crib, inched toward each other and intertwined. "I am still struck by disbelief sometimes, yes."

He squeezed her fingers and forced himself to hold her gaze as he admitted, "I'm scared, Ziva. She's perfect right now, and I'm scared I'm going to screw her up."

"_We_ will not screw her up," she said gently, and her emphasis on the word _we_ reassured him, reminded him that, as always, they would be embarking on this journey together. In this, too, they were partners.

Azalea sighed in her sleep, and Tony suddenly found himself blinking very quickly. He walked over to stand behind Ziva, ducked his head down, pressed his lips into her shoulder. She lifted a hand and ran it through his hair. "We will be alright. All three of us."


	3. Girls

"Hey, boss!" Tony called out as he practically bounced into the bullpen, holding his phone and wearing a grin. "I've got pictures. Where's McSenior Field Agent?"

"He's with Abby, and I'm not your boss anymore, DiNozzo," Gibbs said, but stood and came out from behind his desk anyway. "You three getting settled in alright?"

"Yeah," he said, tapping the screen to pull up the first picture of Azalea in her crib. He sifted through the other pictures of the newborn in various parts of the house, sometimes sleeping, sometimes being held by one of her tired yet happy parents.

Gibbs watched the slideshow with a small smile on his face, and it widened slightly as they got to the last photo, taken hours after the birth: Ziva was in the hospital bed, Azalea in her arms, and Tony was squeezed in beside them. "I took that."

"Yeah, once you figured out how," Tony cracked, then shrunk back from the older man's glare. "Sorry, boss."

When Gibbs didn't correct him, he braced himself for a headslap, but it never came. He glanced back over at Gibbs and found that the glare had transformed into a thoughtful gaze. Their eyes met. Another long moment passed.

"Take care of your girls, DiNozzo," he said quietly, seriously.

Tony swallowed hard and kept his head down as he slipped his phone back into his pocket. "I will." _Now. You should do it now._ With a deep breath, he lifted his head and shrugged one shoulder. "Congrats, Gramps."

He gave no reaction at first, and Tony's heart dropped into his stomach. _Crap. _They had meant to _ask_ if Gibbs wanted to be known as 'grandpa' to Azalea, but his damn brain had decided that this moment felt right, and his unfiltered mouth went along with it.

To his extreme relief, Gibbs finally nodded and clapped Tony on the shoulder. The two men then went their separate ways, one to the forensics lab and one elsewhere in the squadroom, but both felt a little bit cheerier.


	4. Bedtime

Tony hummed quietly to Azalea as he slipped her into her sleeper. She lay on the changing table gurgling happily, and he sincerely hoped she would stay that way. When Ziva had come to him earlier in the day to say that she was staying at work late, he'd about had a conniption- the baby was five months old, Ziva had been back at work for one, and, so far, he had managed to avoid putting Azalea to bed by himself.

While Ziva was fantastic with the baby and he was getting better, he sometimes felt self-conscious when handling her, afraid he was going to do something wrong. Soothing her in the middle of the night usually involved just a few minutes of rocking, but getting Azalea to fall asleep in the first place was one of the most trying tasks the new parents had faced. Up to now, Ziva had either done it alone or with him up.

Tonight was his turn to fly solo.

"Come here, Aza," he said, scooping her up gently. The curly head against his chest was comforting. Tony began to sing to her, and her body relaxed. Twice, she was almost asleep and he moved to lay her in the crib, but she would cry as soon as she touched the mattress. And so he set to work again, calming and lulling her to sleep.

The third time, he held her while her breathing evened out completely, and then waited a full sixty seconds before gingerly laying her down. Once she was in the crib, he held his breath- but she was quiet.

_That wasn't so bad._

Tony grinned and did a little fist pump. Then he stroked Azalea's cheek once and turned to leave. In the doorway, he stopped. For some reason, he didn't feel right about leaving her in this room alone.

_I wish Ziva was here._

He stood there for several seconds, staring at the crib. Making his decision, he walked over to the rocker, sat down, and slipped a pink blanket behind his head for a pillow.

Content with being two feet away from his baby, he went right to sleep.


	5. Fool

McGee stood on Tony and Ziva's front porch, awkwardly clutching a woman's handbag and looking around nervously. Nobody was outside to notice him or what he was holding; still, he wanted to rid himself of it as quickly as possible, and nobody was answering the door.

Just as this last thought crossed his mind, he heard the lock being turned, and Ziva appeared. "_Toda raba, _McGee," she said gratefully, taking her bag from him. "I can't believe I ran off without it. Would you like to come in?"

"Oh, no," he replied. "I better get home. Thanks, though."

After a quick glance over her shoulder, she leaned in conspiratorially. "McGee, come in for just a moment. I have something to show you… consider it a reward for bringing my bag."

McGee, suspicious and curious, narrowed his eyes. "What is it?"

"Tony acting like a complete fool."

It took about half a second for McGee to agree and step into the house behind her. She held a finger to her lips and led him to the living room doorway. He peered into the room and saw Azalea sitting on the coffee table in her carrier. Tony was playing with her feet, moving them up and down as he sang some song that McGee was pretty sure he should recognize but didn't. When he got bored of that, he started cooing at her: "Hey, Aza May. How you doin', Aza May? Did you know I picked out your headband?"

McGee glanced over at Ziva, who nodded in the affirmative. He broke into a grin: the knowledge that Tony had picked out that pink headband with the huge flower on it was great ammunition. But when he looked back into the living room, he got something even better: Tony taking the headband from Azalea's head and stretching it over his own, then making the baby laugh as he turned his head back and forth, modeling it for her.

_That_ was the ammunition McGee had been needing for years.


	6. Bond

"This is the day, Aza."

Ziva said this to her baby as she tried to figure out how to use Tony's handheld video camera. In front of her, Azalea sat in her swing and chattered happily, if unintelligibly.

"Your daddy is going to be very impressed that I got you to talk," she continued, biting her lip as she pressed some buttons. "He will get to hear me brag about it for the rest of his life. Ha! I figured it out. Get ready."

Lifting the camera, she zeroed in on Azalea's face. The baby grinned, pumped her chubby legs, and began to stutter the sound she had been repeating often lately. "B- b- b-"

"What is it?" Ziva pushed. "Ball? Can you say ball?"

It took an hour and two diaper changes for Ziva to begin to think that it was time to give up. Azalea was losing interest, and was now on the floor playing with her blocks. Ziva sat on the couch, trying to delete the senseless babbling she had ended up filming.

And then, she heard it. Some combination of letter sounds. Her head snapped up. "What, baby?"

Azalea was quiet, but then, she said it again: "Bond."

_Did she say bond? Why would she say bond?_

The pieces began to fall into place.

_James Bond._

_My baby's first word was Bond._

She whipped out her cell phone and sent Tony a text that said nothing but _I am going to hurt you._


	7. Pride

**Thanks to KaiaBlackrock for inspiring this tie-in to the last drabble.**

Tony chewed on the inside of his cheek as he stepped onto his front porch. He had spent the morning at work, tying up some loose ends on a case that his team had just solved, and about an hour ago he had received a text from Ziva that kind of had him scared. For himself.

He tried to think of a reason she would be threatening to hurt him, but couldn't. There were no dirty dishes in the sink, and he had made sure not to leave any of his clothes on the ground when he got dressed this morning. The previous night, she had sent him out for diapers and formula, and he _knew_ he had gotten the right kinds.

Sooner or later, he was going to find out why she was mad… might as well be sooner. He unlocked the front door and stepped gingerly inside. "Hey," he called out.

Two seconds later, Ziva was hurrying around the corner with Azalea on her hip, coming right at him with her face frozen in a glare. Tony took a step back.

"Azalea said her first word today," Ziva said, stopping a couple feet in front of him. "It was Bond, Tony. _Bond_."

It took only a moment for Tony to understand what kind of Bond she meant, and he broke into an enormous grin. "That's my girl!" He reached out and scooped Azalea into his own arms. "You're being raised right, aren't you?" As he dropped a big kiss onto her little forehead, he caught another glimpse of Ziva's face. "Oh. _This_ is why you're gonna hurt me."

"Yes."

Shifting the baby onto his chest, almost as a shield, he began to back into the living room. "Don't listen to Mommy, Azalea," he whispered loudly. "Daddy's very proud of you."


	8. Terms

Ziva crouched on the ground, video camera held in front of her as part of her attempt to record yet another milestone. On the screen, she watched Azalea stand at the other end of the kitchen. "Okay, Aza May," she called out, pressing play. "Ready to walk?"

When she didn't move, Tony grasped each of her tiny hands in his own large ones. "Come on," he urged her, miming the action of stepping forward. "Come on, let's go see Mommy. Wanna go over to Mommy?"

"Come here, Azalea," Ziva said, and the look Azalea shot her way made it clear that she was none too pleased with the pressure being placed on her. She sighed and lowered the camera. "Tony, I do not think she wants to go anywhere."

Tony leaned over the baby, tweaking her nose. "No, she does, don't you?"

Azalea scrunched up her little face and ripped her hands from her father's. Her parents watched, expecting her to get down on hands and knees and crawl away from them- but instead, she defiantly took one, two, three steps in the direction of the living room before falling down and bursting into tears.

"Oh!" Ziva gasped and looked at the camera she still held in her hand. "Tony, I got it! I got her walking!"

After scooping up the baby, Tony walked over and peered over Ziva's shoulder as she played the video of their daughter's first steps. "Look at you go!" he said, bouncing Azalea on his hip. She quieted down a little and stuck two fingers in her mouth.

"Guess she was only gonna walk on her own terms," Tony mused.

Ziva leaned over and fondly kissed Azalea's moist, red face. "I believe you will be a troublesome teenager," she said, and actually sounded delighted at the possibility.

**Inspired by Red Anne Vane.**


	9. Competent

The baby was choking.

The baby was choking, and Ziva could do nothing but stare, terrified, as Tony yanked Azalea from her high chair, threw her over his knee, and thumped her back with the heel of his hand. No sound besides that of Azalea's coughing registered in Ziva's mind, and when it stopped suddenly, her heart constricted in terror. But then a wail pierced the air, and she saw that the piece of hot dog had been dislodged from the baby's throat and was now on the floor.

It only took a moment for her to have Azalea clutched to her chest. The screaming in her ear was a welcome reassurance, but it was also contagious: Ziva felt her lip quiver, and then she was crying, too.

0000000000

"I cut it up."

Tony turned around in the process of pulling on his pajama pants to see Ziva standing in their bedroom doorway. "Huh?"

"The hot dog." Ziva chewed on her lower lip as she came further into the room, sinking down on the edge of the bed. "I cut it up into what I _thought_ were little pieces so she could eat it. And she choked on it."

He approached her slowly and lay a hand on her shoulder. "It isn't your fault. I was feeding her, remember? I inspected every piece I put in her mouth; you cut it fine. It was chance, Ziva. Could've happened to anyone."

"She could have…" Ziva drew in a shaky breath, unwilling to say the final word out loud.

Her husband sat down beside her. "But she didn't die," he said quietly. "She's asleep in the next room, and she's fine."

"Does this not bother you?"

Tony's eyes widened. With one hand, she covered her mouth. Once she had recovered, she spoke in a weak voice. "I am sorry. I should not have snapped; she is okay because of you. I… I was just standing there like a fool. If you hadn't been there…" Tears finally began to leak from her eyes, and she couldn't continue.

Tony knew where she had been headed, though, and he grabbed her by the shoulders. "Hey. Look at me." Ziva shook her head hard, and he gently lifted her chin. "Ziva, you were scared, and you saw I had her, and there wasn't anything else to do. I heard her choke and I just reacted_. _If you had been alone with her… if you had been the only one who could help her… you would have done it."

"Do you really think that." It was phrased like a question, but her voice was so flat, so defeated, that it didn't come out that way "I fear, Tony, that I am an incompetent mother."

He folded her into his arms, pressed his face into her hair, felt her body shudder. "You are anything but incompetent," he murmured, knowing that his words were falling on deaf ears at the moment but that later, she would begin to believe them. "Anything but."


	10. Wedding

The reception hall was set up for a crowd, with a spacious dance floor in the center of the room and round tables surrounding it. Music filled the entire space- music with a thumping techno sound.

Tony approached the table where Ziva was sitting, Azalea on her lap, and put down two heaping plates of food. "This has got to be the weirdest wedding I've ever been to. Or even seen in a movie."

"It _is_ Abby's wedding," Ziva reminded him, wrapping one hand around Azalea's middle and picking up a fork with the other. "She is the only person I know who could pull off a black and white dress. You should have seen that specialty shop we got it from- there were some very odd selections."

"I bet," he grinned, but his face quickly went slack when she caught a glimpse over her shoulder. As he shoved a spoonful of mashed potatoes into his mouth, Ziva turned around to find Abby and McGee approaching them.

"Abby!" She stood up, taking Azalea with her. The two women hugged, careful of the squirming toddler in the crook of Ziva's arm. McGee went around them and shared a quick man-hug with Tony.

After a moment, Abby pulled back and held Ziva at arm's length. "Thank you for being one of my bridesmaids, Ziva." Eyes gleaming, she turned to Azalea. "Can I borrow your kid? Me and Timmy want to dance with her."

"Dance! Want dance," Azalea declared, seeming to come out of the bored daze all the grown-up talk had put her into.

"You go with Aunt Abby, Aza May," Ziva said, handing her over, then sat back down beside Tony. They watched the newlyweds take their daughter out on the dance floor. Abby held her hand; McGee stood off to the side. Under the table, Tony put his hand on Ziva's knee, and she smiled at him. "It seems that rule number twelve is about shot."

"More like mangled."

"Mm. Doesn't it feel like just yesterday that we got married?" she mused. "And now we have a child…"

"And soon it will be her getting married…"

Ziva spun towards him, holding up a finger. "Do not. Speak of that."

"Sorry, sorry." Tony rested his chin on her shoulder and discreetly pressed his lips against her neck. She giggled, and he began to whisper against her skin. "The wedding was amazing and all, but you know what was even better?"

When she lowered her face toward his, there was a new kind of twinkle in her eye. "The honeymoon?"

"Yeah, the honeymoon," he confirmed, kissing the side of her jaw. "We should really do that again. Do you think Azalea could stay at Gibbs' house tonight?"


	11. Jupiter

Tony walked into the house after a long day at work, sighed deeply, and dropped his backpack beside the door. He was about to call out that he was home, but stopped when he heard the unmistakable sound of Train- which, when put under pressure, he would admit that he enjoyed listening to- coming from the living room. As if the music had a gravitational pull, he started toward it.

The song was coming from the radio on top of the entertainment center, and Ziva was already there, back to him as she moved from side to side with Azalea in her arms. Their two year old was watching her mother with wide, dark eyes, completely focused on the gentle words she was singing.

_Can you imagine no love, pride, deep fried chicken?_

_Your best friend always sticking up for you_

_Even when I know you're wrong_

_Can you imagine no first dance, freeze dried romance?_

_Five hour phone conversations_

_The best soy latte that you ever had_

_And me_

She moved into the chorus, never breaking eye contact with her daughter, and Tony just leaned against the doorframe, watching them with a smile, all his stress evaporating. There was nothing better, he thought, than coming home to this. To them.

The song drew to a close, and Ziva sang the very last word to Azalea, her voice fading out with the radio. When she fell silent, she turned around, and Tony realized that the sneaky little ninja had somehow been aware of his presence the entire time. She smiled innocently, pressing her cheek to Azalea's, and he couldn't help walking over to hug them both.


	12. Sick

"Daddy!"

Tony rolled over, his slumber having been interrupted both by the voice and whatever was repeatedly poking him in the ribs. He peeked over the side of the bed, groggily rubbing at his face with one hand. "What's up, sweetheart?" he whispered, trying not to wake Ziva.

Azalea pointed toward the bedroom door. "I, I throwed up."

"Where?"

"The hall."

He followed her finger with his eyes and sighed softly. _How do you even get that out of the carpet?_

First things first, though. "Are you feeling sick?" he asked, slipping out from under the warmth of the covers. "Does your tummy hurt?"

"Uh-huh," she said with a pout.

Tony lay the back of his hand against her forehead. "Whoo," he whistled under his breath, and scooped her up. "You're hot, kid."

Azalea looped her arms around her father's neck as he carried her down the hall, carefully sidestepping the puke when he came to it, and downstairs. In the living room, he lay her down on the couch and gently removed himself from her grip. "You get to stay down here tonight, okay? Try and go back to sleep."

As he stood to go to the kitchen, her hand clenched around the fabric of his sweatpants. "Daddy, stay!" she ordered tearfully.

Tony and Ziva had been working on getting Azalea to ask for things rather than demand them, or at least add a "please" at the end of her edicts. But at the moment he felt bad for her, so instead of correcting her, he kissed her forehead and said he'd be right back. Just in case she needed a distraction, he popped _The Lion King_ into the DVD player.

If Ziva had been awake, she would have been proud of him. He put some water and saltine crackers on the coffee table, a small trash can next to the couch in case Azalea needed to throw up again, and he even managed to worm the thermometer under her tongue long enough to get a reading. Once he'd taken care of everything, he plopped down beside her and rubbed her back while she drifted off.

In the morning, he awoke on the couch with no memory of actually falling asleep there.

That wasn't the only thing he had forgotten.

"Tony!" Ziva yelled from upstairs. "What did I just step in?"

**Sick fic for storylover18.**


	13. Movies

Growing up, Tony used movies as a distraction from his problems and as company to fill the void left by his father. In boarding school, there was no way to watch anything Monday through Friday- but Saturday. Saturdays were what he lived for. He would go into town and watch three or four movies, and it was enough to get him though the week.

In college, he often watched them on his own VCR, but there were many nights when his roommate would invite people over and before he knew it, there was an entire group in the dorm eating pizza, drinking beer, and watching with him. He always groaned, but actually, he was much happier to have them than he cared to admit.

After breaking up with Wendy, Tony fell into a rut, and movies became something he did because he wasn't sure what else _to_ do. It wasn't healthy, those six months or so after the breakup, the way he would come home and plop down on the couch and not get up until the next morning.

Eventually, he broke out of that pattern and began to enjoy life again. Movies morphed back into a hobby: something important to him, but still fun. In the last couple years before they began dating- and then, when they did- movie nights became a tradition for him and Ziva.

But this- this, right here, was Tony's favorite kind of movie night of all.

There was definitely no beer, and the showing was _Beauty and the Beast_. But even though he kept zoning out, there was nowhere he would rather be than on the end of the couch, Ziva's feet on one of his knees and his little girl on the other.


	14. Dance

The performance given by the toddlers' beginning dance class was scrappy at best. One girl was pulling her hair out from its carefully twisted bun. Another had apparently given up on the show and was sitting on the floor of the stage, picking at her tights.

All Ziva saw from her place in the audience, though, was her own little girl, flailing her limbs energetically on the right side of the stage. She may or may not have been following the routine, but she was so happy. The smile on her face and the pure joy radiating from her were what brought tears to Ziva's eyes.

She felt a hand come to rest on her back, and then Tony was leaning toward her, whispering, "You okay?"

Ziva nodded, rubbing the corners of her eyes while still watching Azalea. "I am… I am just happy that my daughter will always be able to dance, if she wants, even though I could not." Turning toward him, she added with a small smile, "And Tony, it means just as much to me as it does to her that you are here. Aza has the father neither one of us did."

Tony kissed the side of his wife's head, and before he sat back in his seat, he said, "If you don't tell anyone I agreed to this, I'll dance with you whenever you want."


	15. Gray

A loud gasp from the bathroom made Tony jump. With a frown and an embarrassed cough, he moved to the other side of the master bedroom and knocked on the bathroom door. "Ziva? Are you okay?"

The wood flew out from under his hand, and then she was standing in front of him, looking appalled. "I have a gray hair!"

"What?" He picked up a brunette lock and squinted at it. "Where?"

"Right here." Leaning toward him, she pointed to her temple.

It took Tony a minute to locate it, but he did eventually find _one_ tiny strand of silver merging with the rest of her hair. "That's nothing, Ziva. I have to comb my hair over my bald spot every day."

"Eventually my entire head is going to be gray."

"Yeah, eventually. Not any time soon, though. Look." With one quick movement, he broke the gray hair and flicked it away. "Ta-da. It's gone." When she only sighed, he took her chin in his hand and studied her face. "What's this about?"

A faint blush tinged Ziva's cheeks, and she started to go back into the bathroom, and he knew. He grabbed her wrist before she could walk away. "Hey. It doesn't matter what color your hair is, okay? I don't care if you wear a paper bag over your head. You'll always be beautiful."

"I just cannot imagine feeling… _attractive_ with gray hair." Her face turned redder. "It is stupid, I know-"

"No, it's not." Tony rested his hand on top of her head, stroked her scalp with his thumb. "Remember how right after you had Azalea, you wouldn't even change in front of me? You got past that with a couple of, uh… good nights." A mischievous grin suddenly appeared on his face. "You'll get past this, too. Want me to show you?"

She raised her eyebrows at him; he could see she was fighting a smile. "We have to go to work. There is not time."

He looked over his shoulder at the digital clock. "Yeah, there is."

Before she could protest, he backed her toward the bed, then fell onto it with her. Ziva laughed between their kisses and paused just once to make sure the bedroom door was locked, and then she allowed him to reassure her.


	16. Grain

"When my mommy and daddy come back?"

Gibbs slurped the rest of his tomato soup and crossed his fingers over his stomach. "They'll be back soon."

"I want them to come get me now," Azalea declared, abandoning her half-full bowl of Spaghetti-O's and wandering into the living room, heading in the direction of the window. "Where they go?"

"They just wanted to see a movie together," he said patiently, even though he had answered the same question twice already. He walked over to her and reached down to take her hand. "Let me show you something, Azalea."

Azalea looked hesitant, but allowed him to gently pull her toward the basement. At the threshold of the door, Gibbs scooped her up and carried her down the steep stairs. When his newest boat- or, rather, the framework of it- came into view, she gasped. "Oooh."

"You wanna help Gramps with it?" he asked. She nodded enthusiastically and wiggled out of his arms. Gibbs moved toward his bench but continued to watch Azalea as she tentatively approached the boat, then stroked its wood with the tips of her fingers. He retrieved a piece of sandpaper and then crouched beside her. "Watch this."

He slowly began to sand the wood in front of them. Azalea watched the back and forth pattern, mesmerized, and then he stopped and motioned for her to put her hand beside his. Together, they began to sand, her tiny hand led by Gibbs' large one as he made sure they were going with the grain.


	17. Possessed

"Tony, you have got to stop this," Ziva hissed quietly. She stepped away from her husband so she could peer into the living room. Azalea was lying on the couch watching Blue's Clues, thumb in her mouth and brand new teddy bear in her arms. Seeing that she was paying no attention to them, Ziva turned back to Tony. "She's already figured out that when I tell her no, she can go to you and you'll say yes."

"Ziva, you don't understand," he wailed. "She's… she hypnotizes me."

"Hypnotizes you," she repeated, unconvinced.

"Yeah! Like, today, she asked me if she could have the bear, right? And I said, 'No, not this time,' and then she looked up at me with her eyes all wide and the next thing I knew, I was handing the cashier fifteen dollars- _seriously,_ it was like I'd been possessed!"

With a roll of her eyes, Ziva gave him a soft smack on the cheek. "You aren't possessed. You're just a sucker."

**Okay, random point of clarification, in case it comes up: in this story, Ziva still works for Gibbs, and Tony leads his own team elsewhere in the NCIS building. (And you can read more about this in the prequel to this series, Bloom.)**

**Thanks for reading- I hope you are enjoying the drabbles thus far!**


	18. Braid

"Tony, you are not doing it right."

Ziva stood at the stove, simultaneously making pancakes and looking over her shoulder at her husband. He was hastily trying to braid Azalea's hair so the three of them could eat and go to work and preschool, but thick locks kept falling around the little girl's ears.

"I told you I would never get the hang of this," Tony said, combing his fingers through Azalea's hair so he could start over. Again.

With a loud, exasperated sigh, Ziva stomped over to the kitchen table and shoved her spatula into Tony's hands. "Flip my pancakes." Then she sidled up behind Azalea's chair and skillfully wove her fingers into her daughter's hair. "Aza, your hair is so pretty."

"It looks like yours, Mommy!"

Ziva chuckled. "I wish mine could be tamed this well."

"_I_ don't," Tony said as he attempted to salvage a pancake that was quickly becoming little more than a pile of crumbs. "I like when it's all wild."

"You don't have to manage it," she replied, tying off the braid and kissing Azalea's cheek. "There you go. We won't have Daddy do that anymore, yes?"

With every intention of making Tony even more rattled, she walked over to the stove and stood very close to him. He glanced back and forth between her and the pancakes three times before deciding that he could manage to talk to his wife without ruining breakfast. "If you aren't careful, she's going to become all bossy like you," he quipped. "Then we'll have a problem on our hands."

Before Ziva could reply, Azalea appeared between them, standing on tiptoe to see inside the skillet. "Daddy," she said matter-of-factly, "you not makin' the pancakes very good."

Tony rubbed his forehead.

Ziva put her hand over her mouth to keep from laughing.


	19. Cookies

"Look, Daddy!" Azalea pranced up to him and spun in a circle. "Mommy gots me an apron!"

"Very nice," he said, slipping past her and into the messy kitchen. Ziva was stirring something in a bowl; finished trays of chocolate chip cookies already lay spread out on the table. "Wow. Big Ninja and Little Ninja are feeding an army."

Ziva's eyebrows shot into her hairline. "Who are you calling big?"

"Uh." He paused, cookie halfway to his mouth. "Certainly not you."

She was unmoved.

"I mean, you are, relative to- to her." Tony pointed at Azalea. "But not, you know… in general."

Ziva looked away and resumed her stirring, leaving him to wonder whether he was forgiven or not. He sat at the table and watched mother and daughter load another batch onto a tray and into the oven. Then Ziva sent Azalea to wash her hands in the bathroom; once the little girl had left, she turned toward Tony, who swallowed loudly.

She plopped down in his lap and took several seconds to stare and make him squirm before she smiled. "I was kidding, Tony."

"Oh," he sighed in relief, and leaned in to kiss her. At the last second, she stuck a cookie in his mouth, and he sputtered around it as she stood and walked away, laughing.


	20. School

Tony joined Ziva at the sink, where she was washing the dinner dishes with a little too much vigor. Leaning against the counter, he asked her quietly, "Are you okay?"

"I am fine," she replied quickly, scrubbing at a plate. He watched her for a moment, then reached out and gently took it from her hands. Ziva sighed loudly. "Tony, I said-"

"Is it about her starting kindergarten tomorrow?" He rested a hand on her arm. She closed her eyes at his touch and nodded. "Listen, in a week it'll just seem normal. She's gonna do great."

"It isn't that," Ziva said, looking at him now. "It feels like she was just born. The time has gone too quickly. Today, she is five; before we know it, she will be graduating from high school and we'll be grandparents."

Tony tilted his head. "Hopefully those two things won't be happening at the same time."

"You know that's not what I meant," she huffed. Ducking her head, she swiped at a stray tear. "She is growing up too fast."

Folding her into one of his arms, he turned his head to call into the living room, "Hey, Azalea, come here."

Small feet padded down the hallway, and then Azalea entered the kitchen. "What, Daddy?" As she caught sight of her parents, she broke into a grin. "Ooh, we have a group hug?"

"Yeah," Tony said, scooping her up when she ran at him. The three of them squeezed together, arms around each other, and he moved his mouth next to Ziva's ear. "She's right here," he assured her, quietly enough that their daughter couldn't hear, and he felt her muscles relax. "She's here, and she's gonna be here for a while. Enjoy it."


	21. Nightmare

"Mommy. Mommy."

The tearful, terrified voice of a kindergartener jarred Ziva from her sleep. She immediately rolled over, out of the crook of Tony's arm, and peered over the edge of the bed. Azalea was squatting on the floor, face red, clutching a stuffed rabbit to her chest; it looked like a vertical version of the fetal position. Ziva lowered one hand to stroke her daughter's hair. "What's wrong, baby?"

"I had a bad dream," she sniffled. "There was, um, there was a monster, like the one in the movie. He chased me and I, I couldn't find you. It was scary."

_I told him not to let her watch that movie,_ Ziva thought grumpily. Out loud, she sighed and reached both arms downward. "Daddy and I are right here, Aza. Everything's okay."

Azalea was still crying a little and remained drawn in against herself. Ziva hoisted her up and set her down in the middle of the bed. Tony grunted as the mattress beside him dipped.

"You can sleep with us tonight," Ziva murmured, rubbing her back. The little girl's muscles slowly began to relax, and she snuggled close to her mother.

From the other side of Azalea, Tony opened his eyes halfway. "H'Aza," he slurred, scooting closer to wrap an arm around her, and quickly fell back asleep. His wife stared at him, anticipating the conversation they would have in the morning about what kinds of movies were and were not appropriate for six year olds. For now, she kissed Azalea's forehead.

"Love you, Mommy."

Ziva smiled. She never got tired of hearing that little voice saying those big words. "I love you too, Azalea. Sleep well."


	22. Puzzle

"I need help with this puzzle," Azalea announced, striding up to the coffee table and upturning a box over it. Twenty-four pieces of Pooh and Piglet toppled out.

Her view of the TV now blocked by two curly pigtails, Ziva sighed and lifted her head from Tony's lap. "Can you ask nicely for us to help you?"

"Please?"

"Please what?"

"Please help me?" she asked, blinking innocently.

Tony slid onto the floor and kissed the side of her head, then set about turning the puzzle pieces to their colored sides. "Okay, look here," he said, holding one of them up. "See how there's one edge that's totally straight? You wanna find all the ones like this and put them together first."

"What?" Ziva asked incredulously, standing from the couch. "What are you telling her? That is not how you do it." She snatched up the top of the box and pointed to the picture on it. "You start with the middle. Pooh is in the middle; put him together first."

"You do realize you're the only person in the Western world who does puzzles like that, right?"

"I am not _from_ the Western world!" Leaning over Azalea, she separated the yellow and red pieces from the others. "Here are all the Pooh pieces."

Azalea seemed satisfied enough; she began working on what her mother had given her. Tony got to his feet and pointed at Ziva. "Hold on." He left the room and returned a minute later holding two of Azalea's puzzles. "Alright," he said, tossing her one. "Let's settle this. I'll do it my way, you do it your way, and we'll see who gets done first."

"Are you serious?"

"Duh." Already he was on the floor and dumping out the contents of his box; she sighed, but followed his lead. They each spread out their pieces. "Ready?"

"Yes."

"On the count of three. One… two… three… go!"

Ziva studied the picture on her box quickly, then began separating the pieces into piles of different colors. Tony fumbled to find the edges and four corners. Azalea finished Pooh and moved on to Piglet.

"Got my frame done."

"Shh."

The living room was oddly quiet as the kindergartener and her parents each continued to focus on their respective puzzles… and then the silence was broken by not one, but two voices yelling, "Done!"

"That is not possible," Ziva said loudly, pointing at her husband. "I was beating you."

"You were not."

"Yes, I was! There is no way you finished at the same time."

They stared each other down for two long seconds, and then Tony said, "Rematch."

Ziva started to make a comment about how juvenile he was being, but then decided she did want to beat him and took apart her Mulan puzzle. "On the count of three."


	23. Babysitter

Tony gritted his teeth as he was put on hold _again._ This was just the latest obstacle he had been faced with that day- he'd already been displaced from his desk and was standing beside it to make his phone call. His chair was occupied by Azalea, whose babysitter had gotten sick at the last minute, leaving he and Ziva no choice but to bring her to NCIS with them.

"Daddy," she said, spinning in the chair so fast her pigtails whapped her in the face, "I'm hungry."

"Hold on," Tony said, trying desperately to be patient. "We'll get some food as soon as I'm off the phone."

She waited for all of sixty seconds before asking, "Can we go now?"

"Azalea, I'm doing something." He turned around, and his eyes landed on Probationary Agent O'Connor, who was staring listlessly at his computer screen. "Hey! Probie!"

O'Connor looked up. "Yeah, boss?"

Phone still clutched to his ear, Tony went over to the younger man's desk and handed him a few dollars. "Will you take her down to the break room and get her something from the vending machine?"

It was phrased as a request, but it wasn't, and the probie knew it. "Sure," he said, standing and glancing nervously at the seven year old he barely knew. "Um, come on, Azalea."

She hopped up and skipped past her very relieved father. When she caught up to O'Connor, she grabbed his hand and held it. He looked at her, then back at Tony, completely bemused.

Tony smirked as he took back his desk chair. Someday, O'Connor would be a father himself; for now, Tony was more than happy to give him a little practice.

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"I want chocolate donuts, too."

O'Connor stared at Azalea in disbelief. In her hands already were a small bottle of apple juice, a bag of fruit snacks, and a package of Kit-Kats. "Um, don't you have enough to eat?"

"I'm really hungry."

An image of this little girl on a sugar high popped into his head, and he didn't like it for two reasons: one, because she might wreak havoc in the squadroom, and two, his boss would definitely get onto him for letting that happen. So now he needed to decide whether he was going to piss off his boss, or said boss' wide-eyed offspring.

He was fairly certain that making decisions about chocolate donuts was not in his job description.

"Please?" she begged, batting her eyelashes.

O'Connor sighed. "Fine."


	24. Spinach

Her plate was clean minus three leaves of spinach, and Azalea was sitting back in her chair with her arms crossed over her chest. Tony and Ziva leaned toward her, determination etched into their faces.

"Azalea," Ziva tried again, pushing the plate toward her daughter. "You have to eat your vegetables."

"I don't want them!"

"It'll make you big and strong. You don't want to be skinny and weak like Uncle Timmy, do you?" Tony asked. Ziva reached across the table and hit him. "Ow!"

She turned back to Azalea. Two pairs of hard brown eyes met, each challenging the other. After several long seconds, she took on a low, measured tone. "If you do not eat that spinach, there will be no chocolate pudding for a week."

Azalea's mouth twisted as she considered the threat. Then: "That's fine."

Taken completely aback, Ziva spun around to face Tony and found him covering his mouth with his hand. She glared. "You are dismissed from this intervention."

Tony didn't argue. He got up and left the kitchen, shoulders still shaking with laughter. Ziva took a book from the middle of the table and turned it to the page she had earmarked. As she put it in her lap and began to read, she informed Azalea, "I will sit here with you while you finish the spinach."

She had to give her daughter credit: for a seven year old, she had a lot of willpower.

But after ten minutes, Azalea did grudgingly drive her fork into a spinach leaf, and Ziva tried not to smirk, because once again, she had won.


	25. Story

"How did you and Mommy meet?"

Tony, caught off guard, looked up from trying to find Azalea's favorite bedtime story. "Huh?"

She sighed, sounding quite like a little kid version of Ziva. "How did you and Mommy meet?"

"You know how we met," he said, standing as he located the book. He walked over to her bed and tapped her lightly on the head with it. "We worked together. With Gramps."

"No," Azalea said impatiently. "I mean, did you love her right away? Like in the storybooks?"

Tony barely kept a scoff from escaping his mouth. "I wouldn't say that."

"Really?"

He took in his daughter, curled up under her comforter, and wondered if he should indulge her fairytale mindset. What could he tell her about his first encounter with Ziva, anyway? Certainly not, "Well, your mother asked if I was having phone sex, and the rest is history…"

"Yeah, really. Actually, she didn't like me all that much." Azalea's wide eyes made him laugh and lean over her. "But it's a good story, Azalea. It's real good."

"Are you going to tell it to me?"

Tony kissed her on the forehead, then sat down on the edge of her bed and opened up the book. "Let's read this tonight. Sometime, I'll tell you all about me and Mommy."

As she snuggled into her father's side, the little girl murmured, "I bet there's a happy ending."


	26. Fast

Tony fiddled with his tie, trying for the umpteenth time to loosen it. This hotel ballroom was hot; if the air conditioner was on, it sure wasn't a very good one.

He'd taken Azalea to this huge D.C.-area father-daughter dance her ballet class had decided to go to, but she and her friends had disappeared long ago. While the gaggle of girls was on the dance floor, he remained at a round table with the other sweaty, bored fathers, all of whom were much younger than him. Awkward.

"Is there any food in this place?" he muttered, standing up to go searching. When he turned around, he ran right into Azalea. "Hey! You trying to scare me?"

"No," she giggled, tugging on his fingers. "Come dance with me, Daddy!"

"Uh." He paused, looking at all the curly heads bouncing around as 'N Sync blared through the speakers. She was pulling him right along, though, oblivious to his hesitance. Soon they were in the midst of girls screaming along with the song: "Bye, bye, bye!"

Azalea didn't join them. She hopped on top of his feet and grasped his hands in hers. It appeared that she wanted to do this slow-dance style, despite the quick pace of the song- and that was fine with him. Really, he was way too old to be doing anything more vigorous than stepping from side to side and making sure Azalea didn't fall.

An unwelcome thought entered his head: _Someday we'll be doing this at her wedding. _Except by then she'd be big enough to stand on her own two feet, and he would have been displaced as the most important man in her life. Suddenly his throat felt dry and he found himself wishing he could keep her exactly as she was right then and there.

When the song ended, she squeezed him around the waist, then spun away.

"Too fast, Aza," he murmured, stepping forward and scooping her into his arms. "Too fast."


	27. Home

As soon as the first passengers off of the flight from Phoenix wandered into the airport lobby, Azalea jumped onto her seat, straining to see over the crowd. "Where's Daddy?"

"Aza, get down from there," Ziva said, tugging on her daughter's hand. "He will be here soon."

"There's Probie!" she interrupted, and began to wave wildly. When Agent Scott O'Connor saw the little girl he was so often forced to placate or keep under control, he sighed a little, but did approach. Cautiously.

"Hey, Azalea," he said, then nodded to her mother. "Hi, Mrs. DiNozzo."

Ziva gave him a smile and stood from her own seat. "I have told you to call me Ziva," she scolded gently. "It is nice to see you." Lowering her voice- not that Azalea was paying attention, anyway- she added, "Has the case been closed?"

"Yeah. It was the wife. Boss said that from the beginning."

She rolled her eyes. "He _always_ says that. Where has he disappeared to, by the way?"

And then, as if on cue, Azalea shouted, "Daddy!" and bolted. The two agents said their goodbyes and Ziva watched Tony scoop their little girl into his arms and spin her around. She read his lips: _Did you take care of your momma for me? _Azalea nodded vigorously in response.

When Tony set Azalea down, he looked expectantly at his wife, and Ziva walked right into the arms she had lacked this week. Holding her close, he pressed two soft kisses against her neck. "I missed you, baby."

"I missed you too," she murmured, and then pulled away just enough so that she could grasp his shirt collar in her hand. "And tonight, you and me have some catching up to do."

He raised his eyebrows, mouth twisting in amusement. "Well, then. Jumping right into _that_, huh? No 'welcome back', no nothing?"

Ziva rose up on her tiptoes and pressed her lips against his. To her left, she heard Azalea saying, "Icky!" but they still didn't break apart until it was necessary for the sake of breathing. Then she did say, "Welcome home."

**Requested by conservativegirl.**


	28. Birthday

Tony came up behind Ziva as she stood at the kitchen counter waiting for her coffee to brew. He hugged her waist in an attempt to startle her, but she just said, "Good morning, Tony."

"You knew I was there? Damn," he sighed, and dropped his head into the crook of her neck. "Happy birthday, gorgeous."

Ziva turned in his arms, slipping her own around his torso. "Thank you."

"After work, we're taking you out to dinner, and then we have cake and presents," Tony continued. "Me and Azalea, I mean. She helped pick everything out; she kept saying how she wanted you to have the best birthday ever."

Instead of smiling as he thought she would, Ziva ducked her head. Concerned, Tony removed one hand from her waist and tilted her chin up. "Hey. What's the matter?"

"Nothing," she said, and smiled shakily. "Tony, I am just happy."

"You don't look happy," he murmured, stroking the side of her jaw with his thumb.

"I am. It is just that I did not expect to live this long, to reach this birthday. I was fairly young when I resigned myself to the fact that I would die… also fairly young, and that I would die alone. And yet here I am, with a husband and daughter and the possibility of living a full life." Ziva grabbed his hand and gripped it tightly. "Sometimes, I… cannot believe that this is my reality."

Tony nodded, and one corner of his mouth rose. "Well, I'm sure you already know that I'm pretty glad you're here." With a more serious demeanor, he took her face in his hands and kissed her on the nose, the cheek, the lips. She accepted each kiss quietly, and when he had finished, he rested his forehead against hers and whispered, "You deserve everything, Ziva."

**Hope everybody had a great Thanksgiving!**


	29. Reindeer

"No."

"But, Mommy!" Azalea grabbed her mother's hand and dragged her out of the house, into the cold, and over to their porch's new decoration. "Look, isn't he cute?"

"No," Ziva insisted, turning on Tony. He stepped backward sheepishly. "Why did you buy this?"

"We like it," he said. "Come on. What's so wrong with it?"

"He," Azalea corrected. "I call him Connie."

"Sweetheart, I told you, that's a girl's name."

Ziva tapped her foot and glared at him. "Return this stupid plastic reindeer to the store. _Now_."

Azalea threw her arms around Connie's neck, jutting her lip out in the most impressive pout either of her parents had ever seen. "Why don't you like him?"

"Yeah, Ziva," Tony joined in, stooping down to pat the reindeer's bright red nose. "What'd poor Connie ever do to you?"

She continued to fix her husband with a withering gaze. Azalea clasped her hands together. "Pleaseeee."

"Fine," Ziva relented, and as Azalea cheered, she pointed at Tony. "You two are never going to the store together again."


	30. Defense

Team Gibbs had piled into the elevator with their gear and Jacobs, the probie, had pressed the button for the lobby. The doors were almost closed when Tony's hand appeared, keeping them open just long enough for him to squeeze inside.

"Well," Gibbs said dryly. "It's like old times."

Ziva raised her eyebrows at her husband. "What are you doing?"

"Azalea's teacher called me."

A look of panic crossed Ziva's face. "Is she okay?"

"Oh, she's fine. However, the kid she slugged is on his way to the hospital with a split lip."

"_What?_"

"She's _nine_," McGee said in disbelief.

"She's also Ziva's daughter," Gibbs reminded him as the elevator reached its destination and _ding_ed. He slipped past Tony and Ziva, closely followed by Jacobs and then McGee. "Ziva, we'll pick you up at the door."

"Okay," she said, and then turned her focus back to Tony. "What did the boy do to her?"

"That's the interesting part." He fixed her with a gaze that almost made her feel like _she_ was the one in trouble. "He told her he liked her."

Ziva's mouth fell open a little.

"And it's also kind of impressive that she split his lip. Have you been giving her ninja lessons?"

She sighed loudly. "I showed her a few basic self-defense moves."

"Did you tell her that they are _only _for self-defense?"

"Maybe not in so many words."

Now it was Tony's turn to sigh. "Ziva." He put his hands on her shoulders. "Listen, I'm not thrilled that some punk has a crush on Azalea, and it's good you showed her how to defend herself, but she can't go around hitting people."

She bit her thumb nail momentarily, then dropped her hand to her side. "It didn't occur to me that she _would, _Tony."

"It's okay," he said, leaning in conspiratorially. "You and me have to go to a conference tonight. We'll suck up big time, have a talk with Azalea at home, take away TV for a week, it'll all be fine."

From outside, Gibbs honked the horn of the Charger. Ziva started in the direction of the door, but before she left, she asked, "Is it wrong that I'm a little bit proud of her?"

Tony smirked, shaking his head. "Nope. I kinda wish I'd seen it."


	31. Conference

"Okay," Tony said, lowering his voice conspiratorially. "Remember the plan?"

Ziva sighed. "Look. I don't think we need to suck up to the principal. We are not the ones in trouble."

"No, but one of us _did_ teach Azalea to punch people," he replied, raising his eyebrows at her.

"That is not what I-"

The door to the principal's office opened behind them, and Ziva fell silent. She and Tony turned around to find an older woman with a pinched face standing there, watching them with an expression that wasn't exactly friendly.

"You must be Mrs. Hamilton," Tony said with a charming smile, extending his hand. The principal gave it one firm shake, did the same to Ziva, and then motioned for them to enter her office.

"She seems unimpressed," Ziva murmured.

"Shut up."

Once they stepped inside, they found Azalea slumped in a chair with her backpack at her feet. She diligently avoided eye contact with the adults. Tony and Ziva took seats themselves, and Mrs. Hamilton stood before them. "Azalea, share with your parents what you did," she ordered.

Azalea scowled. "Javi Rodriguez said that he liked me and I hit him."

"Hard enough that he had to go to the hospital," Mrs. Hamilton added, even though everybody already knew that.

"My mom showed me how to do that," Azalea said defensively, pointing at her mother. Ziva squeezed her eyes shut. "She said if a man ever scared me or said something I was uncomfortable with, that's what I should do!"

"Men, sweetheart," Ziva said, exasperated, covertly kicking her husband because he was snickering. "Not little boys."

Mrs. Hamilton's hard gaze, not dissimilar to Gibbs', was trained on Ziva now. "Mrs. DiNozzo, I think we can all agree that your communication skills could stand some improvement."

Trying hard to keep a straight face and biting her tongue before she let some choice words escape, Ziva took the brochure handed to her. The headline read, _Communication is the Key!_

"Um… thank you," she said, because it was the only polite thing she could think of.

The principal produced two pieces of paper and handed them to her. "I would like you to fill this out with Azalea by next Wednesday so that I know she understands what she did wrong and how this can be prevented in the future. And if _you_, Mrs. DiNozzo, could please read that brochure and then fill out the other sheet on your own so I know that you have learned how to better communicate with your daughter, that would be great."

Ziva barely got out of the conference without exploding. As soon as they were in the school's parking lot, Tony pointed at her and laughed. "You got homework."

"That woman is crazy!" she exclaimed, throwing her hands up so that the papers flapped in the wind. "There is nothing wrong with what I told Azalea. She is a child and she misunderstood; it is _not _my fault."

Tony pulled Azalea's fingers out of her mouth. "Play along, okay? Turn in your little worksheet and be done with it."

"I think that I _won't_ turn it in, just to show her!"

"You have to turn it in," Azalea piped up. "Mrs. Hamilton will get you. She's a secret witch, did you know that? When kids get in trouble, she puts spells on them."

Instead of laughing along with her husband, Ziva glared at her brochure and said, "I do not doubt it."

**Combination of requests by Azraelean (to see the conference) and xWellJustMex (to hear Azalea's side of the story).**


	32. Ferry

The bay glittered in the sun as the ten o'clock ferry was cast into its waters. Passengers climbed out of their cars and strolled to the edge of the deck, Tony among them. Hands braced on the railing, he took in the view, then called over his shoulder, "Ziva, come look at this."

"Just a minute," she said, squirting sunscreen onto two fingers and reaching for Azalea's face. Her daughter squirmed away at the last second, a dollop of white left on her nose. "Hold still."

"I don't want sunscreen," Azalea whined.

"Either you put it on or you are going to spend the next hour sitting on the bumper of the car, in the shade."

"But I want to see the water."

"Then I suggest you put on the sunscreen."

Tony watched with nervous fascination as they stared each other down. When Azalea finally held out her bare arm and Ziva smiled triumphantly, he whistled under his breath and turned away, ever the innocent bystander.

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Once Azalea had sunscreen on every visible area of skin, she and Ziva came to stand beside Tony. Ziva rested her chin on his shoulder, and Azalea stood on their tiptoes beside them. She barely managed to peek over the edge of the railing. "I can't see."

Tony wrapped his arms around her from behind, then hoisted her up so that the bay stretched out before her eyes.

"Be careful," Ziva warned.

Oblivious to her mother's concerns and knowing she was safe in her father's arms, Azalea began to wave hers around wildly. "I'm flying!"

"_Come, Josephine, in my flying machine_," he sang, laughing, "_going up, she goes up, up she goes_." Noticing Ziva's brow furrowing in confusion, he explained, "It's from _Titanic_."

She sighed, but she also smiled. "The two of you will run Hollywood someday."


	33. Talk

Azalea sat across from both of her parents at the kitchen table, one leg crossed over the other, watching them curiously. Ziva kept running her fingers through her hair, and Tony was staring at the wall. The three of them were quiet for a full sixty seconds before Ziva turned to her husband and said, "You go in the other room."

"What?" He abruptly lost interest in the new paint. "No. After you tell her about the, you know, the mechanics, I have some warnings to give her."

"Warnings?"

"About men."

She inhaled deeply, let it out slowly, and grudgingly faced Azalea again. "Azalea, you are eleven now, and we think it is time for you to learn about sex. It is not… well, it is something you and I can discuss more thoroughly sometime when your father isn't here…" Ziva took a moment to glare at Tony, who raised his chin defiantly. "For now, I can draw you a picture of, ah… how it works."

"Um," Tony said, eyes widening as she grabbed a writing tablet and set to work making a fairly detailed diagram, labels and all. When she finished, she slid it over to Azalea and watched her face slowly be overtaken by both disgust and wonder as she comprehended Ziva's drawing.

"Questions?" Ziva asked.

Azalea studied the paper for another minute before shaking her head, cheeks flaming, and putting it down. She cleared her throat before she spoke. "No. You should really destroy that, Mom. Like, throw it in the fireplace."

Ziva opened her mouth, presumably to defend her teaching method, but Tony cut her off. Leaning forward and making sure he had his daughter's attention, he said, "Listen to me, Azalea. I want you to know that the male species is a species of assholes. A lot of them will lie to you or use you, just to get this." He jabbed his finger at the pad of paper between them. "And you _should not _give it to them. Got it?"

"I got it, Daddy," Azalea said.

"And if you do give it to them- which you won't- use protection. Okay? That's really important."

"Protection?"

Tony stared at her and found that Ziva was doing the same. He stood up, rubbing his face, and started for the kitchen door. "I should have just left when you told me to," he told Ziva. "I'm getting too old for this."

**Cross between requests by LovinCraziness and tivaandmcabby (one for The Talk and one for Tony lecturing Azalea about guys and sex).**

**(Little bit of a time jump. She was nine in the last one, I think, and this one, she'd be starting middle school. :)**


	34. Car

"Was I conceived at that house we lived in when I was a baby?"

Ziva spun around to glare at her daughter. "Azalea May!"

"You're the one who decided she needed The Talk," Tony muttered from the driver's seat, and quickly focused on the road when Ziva turned menacingly toward him.

"I'm just wondering," Azalea said matter-of-factly. "But I guess it makes sense that it was there. Where else would you do it?"

For several moments, Ziva worked her jaw, unsure what to say. Finally, she snapped, "Why are you even asking? That is supposed to disgust you, not fascinate you," and faced forward again. "New topic."

She and Tony slowly slid their eyes toward each other and reached a silent agreement: Azalea definitely did not need to know that she was currently sitting exactly where her conception took place.


	35. Necklace

"Is this really necessary?"

Ziva strode into the jewelry store, ignoring her husband's protests. Tony, sighing loudly, followed her.

"She is turning thirteen, Tony. This is a milestone in Jewish culture. She isn't interested in having a bat mitzvah, and honestly, I'd rather not throw one. But I'm also not going to give her an Easy Bake Oven."

"Hey. You're never too old for-"

"Tony." Ziva turned around, put her hand on his chest, looked into his face. "Azalea needs a grown-up gift."

He lifted his hand to squeeze hers and relented, his shoulders sagging slightly. "I know. I just… I can't believe she's gonna be a teenager."

Ziva kissed him. "I can't, either." Moving toward the display cases, she added, "So, do you think she'll like a necklace?"

"Yeah." Tony pointed at a collection of colorful ones. "Those are cool."

"They are birthstones," Ziva said. "Aza does not like hers."

"Who doesn't like their own birthstone?" he asked, walking toward another case. "Oh, hey. What about a Star of David?"

Ziva joined him, and together they looked down at the religious jewelry. "I thought about that, but I do not want it to seem like I'm trying to create a… mini-me."

Registering her hesitance, then the fact that she did get the phrase right, Tony squeezed her shoulder and started to say good job, but was interrupted when she gasped.

"What?"

"Look." Ziva pressed her finger to the glass, and Tony peered closer. She was pointing at another Star of David, but this one had a cross in the middle. It showed the merging of two religions. Two people.

"That's perfect."


	36. Revenge

Special Agent Scott O'Connor sat in his car outside a middle school, drumming his fingers against the steering wheel and watching thirteen year olds walk by in groups. It had been an entire year since his probationary period ended, but apparently, he was still the go-to guy for probie work such as picking up his boss's daughter from school.

He jumped when someone rapped on the passenger side window and turned to see Azalea herself, looking confused. She opened the door and stuck her head in. "Agent O'Connor? What are you doing here?"

"Your dad sent me," he said. "He's in interrogation."

"Oh." She got in, shutting the door behind her. With one hand, she fastened her seatbelt, and with the other she waved at a perky-looking blonde girl. "Please tell me I don't have to come to NCIS."

"Yeah, sorry. I need to get back." O'Connor pulled away from the curb and paused, but couldn't help adding, "You should try not to miss the bus next time."

Azalea rolled her lips. "Sorry. I had to do something for a project."

O'Connor nodded but didn't say anything. Truth was, he liked Azalea, even though she had been demanding and a bit of a bully when she was younger. Now, she was still kind of… pushy, but in a much more diplomatic way. It wasn't as obvious or as annoying.

Of course, that didn't change the fact that he had spent more time than he'd cared to getting sweets out of the NCIS vending machines for her.

This thought was still in his head when they approached a gas station, and he made a split-second decision to stop there. He pulled into a parking space, dug two dollars out of his pocket, and held them out to a confused-looking Azalea. "I need a coffee."

"A coffee?"

"Triple-shot mocha. Three creamers."

It was a total role reversal, and it was fairly obvious that Azalea hadn't been expecting to be tasked with fetching the agent's coffee. But he had grown a backbone over the years, and he wasn't relenting; she took his money and slipped out of the car.

O'Connor turned off the engine and sat back in his seat.

He might be able to get used to this arrangement.


	37. Boy

"You look nice," Ziva commented, watching Azalea slide into the passenger's seat of the car.

The fourteen year old plopped her backpack in her lap, shut the car door, and returned her mother's leveled gaze with one of her own. They engaged in a short staring contest before Azalea used a measured voice to say, "Thanks."

Ziva took in her outfit: the flowing knee length skirt, the V-neck top, the hair flower. She tapped her fingers on the steering wheel. "Is there something going on at school today?"

"No."

"Is there a boy?"

"Mom!" Azalea threw her head back against the headrest. "Can we please just go?"

Biting her lip so as not to laugh at the blush staining her daughter's face, Ziva put the car in reverse and backed out of the driveway. Once they were on their way down the road and she had composed herself, she continued to press for information. "So what is his name?"

Azalea threw her a sour look, but answered grudgingly. "Jayden."

"Jayden," Ziva drawled, testing the name on her tongue. "And how do you know him?"

"From math and gym," she said, and turned slightly in her seat to face her mother a little more. This was the sign Ziva always looked for when attempting to extract information from her daughter; it was what Azalea did before giving in. "He's really cute and sweet, Mom."

"Are you sure about that?"

She rolled her eyes. "Yes! I talk to him every day!"

As they came to a stop at a red light, Ziva took a deep breath and played with her wedding ring. "I am sure… that what you say about him is true, Azalea. It's just that when it comes to men, you often need to have your guard up."

Azalea shook her head, pinched the bridge of her nose, tried to be patient- and did manage to proceed gently. "Mom, we're fourteen. I know… _stuff_ happened with you and some guys, like, a long time ago, but that isn't what this is. We're just kids. It's fine."

The light turned green, and Ziva drove through the intersection. She didn't speak again until they had pulled up to the school, and by then Azalea was glancing worriedly at her. Ziva put the car in park and smiled. "There _are_ good men in the world. It is possible that Jayden is one of them."

Azalea smiled and slung her backpack over her shoulder as she prepared to hop out. "Like Daddy."

"Yes," Ziva said, and kissed her daughter on the forehead. "You _do_ look nice, Aza. Tell that boy 'hi' today."


	38. Interrogation

"What's this kid's name again?" Tony asked, leaning against the counter beside Ziva as she tossed a salad. "Jason?"

"You know his name," she replied. "It is Jayden. Quit being difficult."

"Maybe I wouldn't feel like being difficult if you hadn't invited Azalea's boyfriend over for dinner," he grumbled. "I agreed to let her date him, but why do I have to eat with him?"

Ziva turned toward him, one hand on her hip, the other wielding the salad tongs like some sort of weapon. Her husband took a step back. "I did not invite him, Tony! Azalea invited him, and I wasn't going to say no. Now go away; you are irritating me. Set the table."

As he grabbed three plates out of habit, then grudgingly picked up a fourth, Azalea came flying into the room. "Dad," she said, coming up beside him and clutching his arm. "Daddy, listen, okay? Be nice to Jayden."

"'Course, sweetie," he said, just as the doorbell rang. Azalea started to leave the kitchen, but Tony stepped in front of her and pushed the plates into her hands. "Here, set the table, would you? I'll get the door." He hurried off before she could protest and strode through the foyer with one goal in mind: determining whether or not this kid could be trusted.

He flung open the front door and came face to face with Jayden, who had repeatedly been described by Azalea as "so cute, so sweet". To Tony, neither of these words seemed to fit this blonde kid with slightly sagging pants. "Hey, Jayden. How's it goin'?"

"Not bad. How are you?" Jayden asked, shaking Tony's outstretched hand. Tony watched him closely as he stepped into the house.

"I'm good. But I'll be better when I figure something out." Tony leaned close to the kid, who was suddenly looking a bit nervous. "My daughter isn't someone for you to yank around. I hope that isn't your intention here."

"It's not."

"Then what is?"

Jayden opened and closed his mouth several times, at a loss. While staring him down, Tony reached out as if to hit Jayden in the stomach, but the kid grabbed his wrist and pushed it aside. Then, as if realizing that doing such a thing to his girlfriend's dad might not be the best idea, he began to stutter.

Tony didn't mind, though. The kid was thoroughly freaked out; that was the goal.

"Just testing your reflexes," Tony said, clapping Jayden on the shoulder, maybe a bit harder than necessary. "They're good. So. Tell me about yourself. Don't leave anything out, because I can very easily run a background check on you."


	39. Pool

"Ziva, what the hell is she wearing?" Tony asked, leaning forward in his poolside chair.

Ziva, who was sprawled across the chair beside his, looked up from her book and followed his line to vision to Azalea. She had just left the locker room and was now lowering herself to perch on the edge of the pool. "A swimsuit."

"That's not a swimsuit. That's a _bikini_. Since when do we let her wear bikinis?"

"I bought it for her."

"You _bought _it? Without telling me?"

She moved her sunglasses to the top of her head so she could fix him with a stern look. "Tony. She is fourteen years old. I did not think it would be a big deal. And there is a lot more fabric on that swimsuit than the one _I'm _wearing in those pictures you have."

"That's different."

"In what way?"

He spluttered for several seconds, and she waited patiently. Finally, he gave up and crossed his arms over the OHIO on his t-shirt. Thinking it was over (and that she had won, as usual), Ziva began to read again. But then Tony said, "That punk is talking to her."

Exasperated, she raised her head. "What?" He pointed at a teenage boy crouching next to Azalea, speaking while she laughed. "I'm glad she's talking to a boy. She has been sad since Jayden broke up with her."

"I wish she would just steer clear of anything with testosterone," Tony huffed. "She was perfectly fine before him, and that deal ended up being a mess. Why would she even want to get involved in that again?"

Once again, Ziva set her book aside and leaned toward him, lowering her voice this time. "You know I was hesitant when they started dating, but after seeing how hurt she was… I am _glad _if her faith in relationships has been restored. Our daughter is smart, Tony. I believe she will be able to avoid some of the heartache that I experienced. I trust her to flirt with that boy, to move past Jayden, to handle any boyfriend she ever has… just fine." She cupped his face in her palm and pressed a kiss to his cheek. "Okay?" she finished, stroking his jaw with her thumb.

"Okay," he sighed, glancing at Azalea once more. She and the boy were waving at each other as he walked away. "I'll try to back off," he added, which earned him another kiss, this time on the mouth.

Still, he excused himself later and went over to Azalea, his spare t-shirt in hand. He ignored both her bemused expression and the fact that it was a hundred degrees as he said, "Just in case you get cold."

One thing was for certain: nobody could say he didn't try.

**Summer drabble requested by meippo.**

**You can read more about this breakup in a oneshot called Womanhood. :P**


	40. Immersed

Tony grinned as Ziva gently pushed him down on the couch, draping herself over his chest. Arms wound around her, fingers tangled in her hair, he intercepted her lips with his.

Their mouths moved hurriedly; they were only too aware that they weren't able to be alone like this very often. Ziva shifted her weight and he grunted slightly. She drew back and smirked. "What is it? Are you getting too old for this?"

"Shut up," he said, failing to stifle a grin. Ziva playfully pulled further away, but Tony grabbed her head and pulled it back down to his.

They kissed for a long while, Tony's hands moving downward and eventually finding the skin beneath her blouse, Ziva's stroking his sides. They were too wrapped up in each other to notice when the front door opened- at least, until a shriek tore them from cloud nine.

"Eww!" Azalea barely paused to slam the door shut before stalking upstairs, hands over her eyes. "I did _not_ need to see that!"


	41. Scar

"Azalea!"

Azalea closed her eyes and ignored her mother's yelling. She continued to lean over the toilet, finger down her throat. She'd never tried this before; her dance friends who did it said that sometimes, the gag reflex took a while to kick in.

"Azalea DiNozzo, open this door right now!"

Her stomach jerked and she began to feel nauseous. Removing her hand from her mouth, she gathered her hair in her other hand and allowed her lunch to leave her body. It was gross and vile, but maybe… maybe after she did this a few more times, the weight loss would improve her dancing.

The door was thrown open and her mom came in, tossing aside the wire hanger she had used to pick the lock. When she saw the vomit, she made a sound of disgust. "I knew it. Azalea, I warned you about this." She grabbed a washcloth and dampened it, then crouched beside Azalea and began to wipe down her daughter's face, somehow managing to be motherly and angry at the same time. "I _told _you that there might some pressure from the other girls to do things like this. Did it not get through your head that _you are hurting yourself_?"

"I'm not hurting myself," Azalea mumbled half-heartedly, knowing there was no point in arguing with her mother. "I'm just losing calories."

"You don't need to lose calories. You are fifteen years old. You are going to eat, and you are going to keep that food down." She stood up, flushed the toilet, tossed the washcloth in the hamper. Azalea knelt on the floor and watched her, half annoyed, half relieved that her mom was in here and taking control of the situation as usual.

"Mom." Azalea stood up on shaky knees. "Mom, everybody at dance does-"

"Everybody at dance does _what?_ Destroys their body?" Her mom moved forward, a new intensity in her eyes. "Azalea, trust me. You do not want to inflict pain on yourself, and then carry the burden around for the rest of your life."

At first, Azalea didn't understand. But then she glanced down and saw that her mother was holding her shirt up, revealing her stomach and the long, thin, white scar stretching across it.

She gasped. "Mom, what-"

"It does not matter anymore, okay? What matters is that I will not allow this to happen to you."

Azalea's throat was burning from throwing up, and her head was spinning from seeing the awful blemish on her mom's skin, and the next thing she knew, she was crying and being held.

"We will help you, sweetheart," her mom whispered, kissing her head. "It will be okay. We will make sure you are okay."


	42. Promise

Azalea sat on the couch and tried to listen to the conversation her parents were having in the kitchen. She could only distinguish her mom's fast speech from her dad's low, worried tone; she wasn't sure what they were saying.

Only that it was about her.

Breathing deeply, she attempted to relax, to calm her turning stomach. She reached for her glass of water, but her hand shook so badly that she lacked faith in her ability to successfully take a sip. A bit of bile rose into her throat; she quickly swallowed it, then sat back with her arms crossed tightly over her stomach and her head bowed.

"Here."

She looked up to see her dad walking in from the kitchen. He sat down beside her on the couch, picked up the water in his strong, steady hand, and held it in front of her. "I got it."

Hesitantly, Azalea put her lips to the rim of the glass and sipped slowly. It felt good on her burning throat; she began to gulp the water and got down three or four more mouthfuls before pulling away. Her dad set it back down on the coffee table, then turned somber eyes on her. "How are you feeling?"

Unsure whether he meant emotionally or physically or both, Azalea went with the untrue, noncommittal answer: "Fine."

Her dad nodded and glanced toward the kitchen. There was no sound coming from inside, and they couldn't see her mom, but they both knew she was using her ninja senses to eavesdrop. He lowered his voice when he spoke. "Your mom wants you to quit dance." Azalea immediately began to protest, but he pressed forward. "Listen. She knows dance is important to you, okay? She used to dance, too; she gets it. But she- _we_ aren't going to let you harm yourself. So I'm going to ask you a question, and I need you to answer honestly."

She nodded. Her father was just about as serious as she had ever seen him; it almost made her afraid to speak.

"Have you done this before?"

"No," Azalea said, shaking her head emphatically. "No. Tonight was the first time I ever tried."

He watched her face for several seconds before he seemed convinced that she was telling the truth. Nodding, he placed a hand on the side of her head and said, "We're going to take you to a therapist, someone you can talk to. But we also need you to have some willpower here. If you want to keep dancing, this can't happen again."

"It won't."

"Promise me, Azalea."

Tears began to fall onto her cheeks, and her dad brushed them away without taking his eyes off of hers. A deep breath calmed her enough to say, "I promise, Daddy."

**This drabble was inspired by NYCRhythm0617, who requested a father/daughter moment where Azalea was a teenager, and conservativegirl, who said she would have liked to see Ziva tell Tony about the incident in Scar.**

**We're approaching the end of this series, and that makes me sad- my baby Azalea's all grown up! But I'm also really grateful for the run it's had, and to all of you who have been reading. Thank you!**


	43. Likeness

Something about the way Gramps handed her the ice cream cone while his eyes drilled into the side of her face, the way he motioned for her to sit on the bench outside the shop, alerted her that there was about to be a conversation. One she didn't want to have.

"I can't believe they told you," Azalea blurted out. "Do they have to share everything? They're so obnoxious."

Gramps studied his own cone before looking at her. "I agree that they're obnoxious. But not about this. You scared them."

Yeah. She'd been told. She _got _it. "It was one time. I went to the shrink. I've done everything they asked me to do, so why can't they chill out?"

"Your mom found you making yourself sick. She's got every right to worry."

The ice cream was melting, trailing down her fingers. Azalea angrily licked it away. "So are you giving me a lecture? I already got one."

"I'm asking why you did it."

She fumed silently for a moment, because she'd already discussed this with the shrink. She had never fully explained herself to anybody close to her; it really wasn't worth talking about, and she wished everybody would just get over it and move on. But Gramps was waiting expectantly, and somehow, he always got people to talk. "It was an experiment," she said finally. "A lot of my friends do it all the time, but I never had, and it didn't seem like a big deal."

Gramps watched her and remained silent. Azalea sighed. "Honestly, I wouldn't have done it again, even if I'd gotten away with it. The… the bingeing made me feel awful, so throwing up was a relief, but afterward, everything hurt. Being skinnier isn't worth it."

He nodded. A small smile was forming on his lips, and she knew she was forgiven. "You know about my little girl, don't you?"

Azalea paused. Her parents had told her about Kelly, but she'd also been instructed not to bring it up.

"It's okay," Gramps said.

"Yes."

"She was real smart. Would've gone her own way, always. Sometimes you remind me so much of her."

Tears burned the backs of her eyes, and she had to look away. _Aza May, Kelly was Gramps' little girl, the way you're ours._ Those words had been spoken when she was much younger, but she still understood. Right now, he was giving her the ultimate compliment.

An arm slipped around her shoulders, and then she was pulled against her grandpa. Pressing a kiss to her forehead, he whispered, "Proud of you, kid."

She licked her ice cream cone. It suddenly tasted much sweeter.

**Requested by Georgia.**


	44. Mystery

_With a teddy bear under her arm, Azalea scooted off the edge of her bed and landed on the floor. Her room was dark; the furniture loomed around her like monsters waiting to attack, and, heart racing, she scurried away from them and down the hallway. _

_As she approached her parents' bedroom door, a muffled sound from inside made her pause and peer through the doorway. The sight of her parents sitting up in bed and hugging wasn't what shocked her so much as the fact that her mommy was sobbing._

_Mommy didn't _cry.

"_You're here," she heard her daddy whispering. "I'm here. It's over. Everything's okay, Ziva."_

"_I know," she said, pulling away from him slightly. "I am sorry."_

"_You don't have to say sorry because it comes back to you sometimes." He brushed her hair out of her face, rubbed at her tears with his thumb._

_They continued talking in hushed, serious voices, and Azalea turned and tiptoed away._

_She preferred the darkness over seeing her mommy so sad. _

0000000000

Throughout her life, Azalea picked up little snippets of conversation among her parents and Gramps and Auntie Abby and Uncle Tim- conversations that stopped once the adults noticed her in the room. Every time, she had the strange feeling that it had to do with that night when she was little, the night she saw her parents holding each other. It seemed pretty clear that nobody was going to tell her what had happened, but she eventually constructed a rough idea: there had been some sort of falling out between her parents, and her mom had gone- somewhere. Back to Israel? And then her dad physically _went and got her mom _and brought her home.

Azalea wasn't entirely sure she even _wanted_ to know the details of whatever happened years before her birth. From what she did know, it sounded pretty freaky and weird, and besides, she already knew the most important part: even oceans and continents weren't able to keep her parents apart.

**This one probably seems kind of random, since the beginning scene is from when she was little, haha. But her thoughts at the end are supposed to be hers as a teenager, so I put it here.**

**Also, you can read more on this subject in a… **_**thing**_** called Coincidence. (I hesitate to call it a fic, because it's a paper Azalea wrote for school. :P ) So, there are my little nuts and bolts pertaining to this chapter. Thanks for reading!**


	45. Undercover

"Gramps?"

Gibbs looked up from his book and found Azalea standing just inside the living room door. Her hair was a mess and her pajamas were rumpled; he could only assume that since going to bed an hour earlier, she had been tossing and turning.

"Hey. Don't you have a test in the morning?" he asked, putting the book aside. "Thought you wanted to get some extra sleep."

"I did, but I can't." She worked at her lower lip with her teeth, a gesture familiar to Gibbs after working with her mother for so long. "I wish my parents were home," she elaborated. His suspicions were confirmed: she was worried. "I don't know why the stupid director had to use them both for his stupid op."

Gibbs patted the empty space on the couch beside him, and Azalea came to sit in it. "It's probably my fault, Azalea. Before I retired, I told the director that your parents are the best in the business."

"Really?" she asked, furrowing her brow.

"At least at NCIS. They ever tell you about the first undercover op they did together?"

She shook her head, now seeming interested. One side of his mouth quirked upward. "It was a long time ago- they'd only been partners for a few weeks. Sending your mother in was a bit of a risk, because she was new and… because of some other stuff, but the director at that time talked me into it. Maybe forced me into it. She was kind of a spitfire." Gibbs sighed, thought for a moment, then continued. "Anyway, they were undercover as married assassins. They fooled the FBI."

"That sounds like a movie. A good movie."

"And if there were ever any question that you were DiNozzo's daughter…" Azalea giggled; Gibbs tousled her hair. "The reason I'm telling you this is, that operation ended up… not going as planned. But your parents, they saved each other's lives. They've always had each other's backs, and I think that if there's ever an op you don't need to worry about, it's one they're doing together."

Azalea nodded slowly. "Okay."

"Okay." Gibbs gave her a feather-light kiss on the temple. "Now, what do you say we go work on the new boat?"

**Inspired by Kelly, who requested some bonding with teenage Azalea and the team.**


	46. History

"Okay, look," Azalea said to her companion as the two of them stood on her front porch. "My parents are in there, and my dad can be kinda wonky, so just… stay two feet away from me at all times."

"Yes, ma'am." The Hispanic boy saluted her.

"I'm serious!"

"Zale, I _know_. Trust me. I'm extremely charming."

And with that, he squeezed her hand and disappeared into the house. She huffed to herself, trying to ignore the fluttering of her heart that resulted from that simple touch, and then followed him inside. "I hear them," she said quietly. "They're in the kitchen. Come on."

"Aye, aye, captain."

"Shut _up_!"

"Azalea?" her mom called. "Is that you?"

She swallowed and answered in the affirmative before starting down the hall. In the doorway, she paused and took in the sight of both her parents.

They appeared relaxed.

Good.

Just as she opened her mouth to begin easing them into the introductions, she felt a presence behind her, and her dad's eyes narrowed. Her mom's widened.

"You must be the new boyfriend," her dad said.

"Javier Rodriguez, sir," he introduced himself, and Azalea could only watch in horror as he walked right up to her father and held out his hand. After a full three seconds, nobody had shaken it, so he stuck it in his pocket. "I go by Javi. How are you?"

"I'm fine," her dad replied slowly, as if faced with a conundrum.

Her mom gasped. "Are you that boy…"

"Yes," Javi proclaimed proudly. "Azalea punched me when we were nine. If you look closely enough, you can still see the scar on my lip."

Azalea closed her eyes.

"Why the hell are you going out with somebody who used to beat on you?"

"Dad!"

"Tony!"

Despite the horror of the women in the room, Javi appeared unperturbed. Nothing bothered him, and he was also persistent- these were two of the things that Azalea liked the most about him. "Ah, you know. Third grade was third grade. I'm just glad I can hang around her now and not have to fear for my life."

Javi grinned at her, a sparkle in his eye, and she didn't hear her dad's response. She was too busy thinking that she was pretty grateful, too.

**Brand new one for Sophie, who wanted to meet Javi! **


	47. Over

It happened in the middle of a pirouette.

It only took a second.

She was spinning, her eyes registering the other dancers as nothing but blurs, adrenaline pumping through her veins…

And then.

Her ankle gave out beneath her and she heard a nasty sound like the crunch of a bone and she toppled sideways, falling into the fetal position at another girl's feet. The crowd gave a collective gasp as she gritted her teeth against the pain that shot through her leg. After years and years of dance, she was well aware of the fact that an injury to the lower half of the body could permanently sideline a dancer.

If this was to be her final performance, she would not end it by limping off the stage.

Azalea ignored the sinking in her stomach, gathered her courage, and pushed herself back up. She seamlessly rejoined the routine as if nothing was wrong. She twirled, glided, leapt, almost collapsing a couple of times but ultimately managing to stay upright. Her heart pounded and her blood rushed and she was _exhilarated_ by those last few minutes of her dancing career. As the song drew to a close and she assumed her final pose, arms open, weight on her good foot, she closed her eyes and committed the sound of the crowd's cheering and catcalls to memory, because she knew that she would never again hear them from this vantage point.

The curtain fell, and then so did Azalea, clutching her ankle and beginning to sob, because it was over.


	48. Faith

Azalea opened her eyes groggily and found herself staring up at an unfamiliar white ceiling. Her vision was bleary; she lifted her hands and rubbed at her face, then set about trying to sit up despite the fatigue that weighed heavily on each and every one of her muscles. She was about halfway there when pain shot through her ankle and lower calf, and she spotted a cast binding that part of her leg, and everything came rushing back at once.

The recital.

The fall.

The injury.

This was a hospital.

She sagged against the pillows, suddenly lacking the strength to sit. Her mother's somber face appeared above her. She lay a soft hand across Azalea's forehead and met her eyes, and Azalea's fear was confirmed: by finishing that performance, she had ensured that she would never dance again. "Hi, sweetheart. How do you feel? Does your ankle hurt?"

"Some." She managed to swallow the lump in her throat with an audible gulp as her eyes grew moist. "Momma," she whispered, because she didn't know what else to say.

"I know." Her mom smiled sadly, ruefully, and smoothed down Azalea's hair with her hand. "I know, Aza."

Azalea was glad that her mother didn't try to tell her it would be okay, because at the moment, she wouldn't have been able to believe her. Dance had been her world for a long time; it was her past, and she thought it was her future. Now that it was gone, what would she do? What _could_ she do? Never had she felt so hopeless and lost. All she wanted was to burrow into a hole for the rest of her life.

A large hand cupped her cheek, and she looked up to see that her father had entered the room. She opened her mouth but closed it when she could not think of anything to say; instead, she watched as her mom produced something from her pocket, something Azalea could not identify because of the tears in her eyes.

"I brought this for you," her mom said softly, and Azalea felt a familiar object being pressed into her palm. "You have not lost yourself, Azalea May."

She closed her hand around the necklace, her Star of David with the cross inside, and held it tightly to her chest while praying desperately that there was something of herself left to find.


	49. Trust

"It's not an engagement ring."

Ziva furiously shoved some clean forks into the silverware drawer, then slammed it shut. "It's the next worst thing."

"You shouldn't have yelled at her."

She planted her hands on her hips, which caused Tony to take a few steps back. "She is seventeen years old. There is no reason for her to have a _promise ring_."

"Our daughter's boyfriend wants to commit to her. Do you know how few parents can say that? I sure as hell wasn't committing to anybody when I was a teenager."

"The key word there is _teenager_," Ziva said. "Tony, I like Javi. But this is ridiculous."

He leaned against the kitchen counter and crossed his arms. His wife, nostrils still flaring, waited. "Why is this such a problem?" he asked finally. "She was so happy about it. _Azalea_. Happy. I don't think I've seen her smile like that since before her ankle surgery."

"I know," Ziva sighed. "And that is what worries me."

Tony furrowed his brow. "You lost me."

She came to stand beside him, close enough that he could feel the tenseness of her muscles. "She is so devastated. Now that her future as a dancer is gone, she has no plans, no direction. That is what she said to me, Tony; those are the words she used. And I fear that she is going to… to throw away all the other potential she has just because marrying Javi seems like the only option." Ziva looked at Tony, shrugged, and rested her head on his shoulder. "I did not have many choices when I was young. She does."

He pressed a kiss to her hair. "I know."

"I do not want her to marry and get pregnant at twenty, before her life even starts."

Tony rested his temple against hers. He swallowed the growing lump in his throat and said, "We've always trusted Azalea. And we should trust her to make her own decisions. Even if she chooses that."

Exhaling loudly, Ziva slipped her arms around his torso, and they held each other tight. "I do trust her," she whispered. "I suppose I do not trust myself to let go."

**This drabble makes me sad, because I can't believe Azalea's all grown up and I feel the same way as Tony and Ziva!**

**One more, guys. Thanks so much for reading.**


	50. Graduation

A sea of blue caps stretched across the floor of the auditorium, all of them tilted upward as the wearers watched their class president speak. The rest of the audience was less enamored with the kid; there was much shuffling, coughing, and impatience as they waited for the receiving of diplomas to begin.

Taking up almost an entire row were Abby, McGee, their son Josh (who hadn't looked up from his video game in half an hour), Gibbs, Tony, and Ziva. Each of the latter two felt they'd been clutching the other's hand all day, and that probably was not far from the truth. Their daughter's graduation was both elating and terrifying, bitter and sweet. Whatever lay ahead of her remained unknown- Azalea had yet to make a decision on what path she wanted to follow.

Today wasn't the time to worry about the future, though. It was time to celebrate the present.

The speeches came to a close, there was a small transition, and then the first name was called. Ziva squeezed Tony's fingers.

"Know what's funny?" he quipped quietly. "My hand hasn't hurt this much since you were in labor with her."

She halfheartedly punched him in the arm.

Soon, they were into the Ds, and Tony didn't have much room to talk- he was returning her fierce grip. Dawson, Deville, Dexter, Dilley…

"Azalea DiNozzo."

And then it was their little girl walking across the stage in her cap and gown and carefully controlled curls and, yes, her promise ring. Her eyes shone, and a smile graced her face. At least to her family, she was radiant.

"Look at my baby," Ziva whispered, completely mesmerized even as tears rolled down her cheeks.

Tony, trying to hide that he was also choked up, said, "We did a damn good job."

It'd been a little more than a year since Azalea busted her ankle, and she'd been walking normally for some time. However, she would often try to perform a move, something that used to come easily to her, and it would turn out clumsy. Her parents, fearing another injury, told her to stop; she replied that the habit of dancing across the kitchen would never completely fade.

Now, after she received her diploma, her parents watched in shock as she spun once in a perfect pirouette. And she exited the stage, head high, shoulders back. Looking forward.

**Oh, I feel bittersweet right now.**

**I want to thank EVERYBODY who has been reading, reviewing, favoriting, alerting, etc. this story, and I also want you to know that I don't think this will be the end of Azalea in my stories. So, ciao, but just for now. And THANK YOU ALL. SO MUCH.**


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